


Big

by cuddlesome (orphan_account)



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Bullying, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Drabble, Fat Shaming, Gen, Internalized Fatphobia, Megalomania, Possession, Spoilers, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowan muses on the bodies he possesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but notice this geek doesn't have any fics to his name on ao3 yet so I decided to help him out a little.

Rowan’s body when he was alive was weak and soft. It was big in all the wrong ways, a fact even the lowliest scum reminded him of on a daily basis. He lived in a feeble flesh-prison. It was redeemable only in the fact that it contained his brilliant mind, lent itself to translating his ideas on paper, and executed his plans. Not to mention that his body, flabby and pathetic though it was, housed his immortal soul. Still, all things considered, he felt little regret in “frying”, as one of his would-be interlopers so eloquently put it, his body with the generator when the time came.

 

 

His brief stint in Abigail’s body reminded him a bit of his own. She was also big, big enough to overtake Jillian and wreck some equipment when assisted with a pipe, anyway. However, her weight was distributed differently in line with her body type and gender. Rowan had little time to think about it at the time, intent as he was on sabotaging the Ghostbusters and their equipment. He had a lot more time to contemplate what it felt like to have heavy weights on one’s chest once he was floating around in the void. After little debate, he concluded it would be annoying to deal with and the corpulence that had collected on his old body’s chest did not nearly compare. It was for the best that he slipped out of that body when Patricia started assaulting him.

 

 

The meathead he possessed next was an entirely new sort of big. It was not—his mind flinched back from the word he was so often taunted with, but he forced himself to use it—fat. Sure, anyone could see that from the outside, but Rowan could intimately feel every muscle bulging under the skin, the satisfying crunch of bone when his fists hit the guards’ faces, the effortlessness of actions that would have taxed his strength before. The irony of the situation, possessing the body of exactly the type of ignoramus who beat him up in high school, did not escape him. Rowan was all too happy to drop the body over the banister when the Ghostbusters demanded it of him.

 

 

When Rowan took on the form of an amalgamation of the Ghostbusters’ design and his own vision, he was big again, yes, but it was exactly the right kind of big for him. The form’s enormousness was something worthy of such destruction, of bringing the world to its knees. It occurred to him that the immensely huge gut and round face he had bestowed upon himself did not quite match the sharp teeth or glowing eyes, but no one was in the position to criticize him any longer. Seeing the miserable, filthy world from his newfound height did not make it any less miserable or filthy, but he felt rightfully above it all. As arguably freakish as the body he fashioned himself was, he felt the most disappointment when he lost it.

 


End file.
